


The Summer of '39

by hereforthewomen



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Bonding, F/M, Family, Gen, but it did!, it surprised me that the season still happened in 1939, mary crawley has a heart, mere weeks before war, so it is in this time that we find Mary and Sybbie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:47:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29362731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereforthewomen/pseuds/hereforthewomen
Summary: It is July 1939, war is on the horizon once more, but the season goes on and for Sybbie Branson this means her first season and presentation at court.During a late-night conversation with her niece the night before her ball, Mary thinks about the changes the last ten years have brought, and worries about the uncertain future that faces the new generation. As always, Henry helps give her perspective
Relationships: Mary Crawley/Henry Talbot, Sybbie Branson & Mary Crawley
Kudos: 7





	The Summer of '39

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by an article I read discussing the remarkable London season of 1939, which reached its climax only weeks before the start of war in September. I realised that, as with her mother, Sybbie’s season would be the last one before the war, and felt I had to write this! I rather enjoyed writing an older Mary and Henry also. 
> 
> In my head Tom and Henry have gone into car production, and have become very wealthy over the last decade. This headcanon is reflected here. 
> 
> By the time Sybbie is presented in 1938, the Prince we meet during Rose’s season has both become Edward VIII and abdicated, so Sybbie will have curtseyed to George VI, Queen Elizabeth and possibly Queen Mary. The season will have changed vastly since the Crawley sisters, and later Rose, were presented, but it was still seen as an integral right of passage for upper-class girls.

Mary looks herself over in the mirror on her dressing table after Anna has left her for the night, noting with approval that while she’s showing the first signs of age, the odd grey hair and a few wrinkles around the mouth and eyes, she still holds up well. Unlike some women her age, she’s gained little weight, and as a result, her cheekbones are still sharp and her waist still trim. The only real concession she’s made to age is allowing her hair to grow out once more, sometimes she dearly misses the ease of short hair, but she’d begun to feel it no longer became her, and so her hair now reaches halfway down her back. 

She’s content that she’s aging well, but perhaps more importantly than that she thinks, she looks happy. The lines around her eyes and mouth are ones derived from years of smiling and laughter. She’d spent so much of her youth convinced that she never would be this happy that she takes immense pleasure in any pieces of tangible proof that the past ten years have been almost blissful. If the storm clouds of war weren’t looming on the horizon once more, she thinks she’d be perfectly happy. 

Just as she reaches this point in her thoughts, there is a knock at the door. “Come in” she calls, expecting it to be Anna bringing some forgotten article of clothing, or even perhaps a piece of gossip from downstairs. 

Instead, Sybbie Branson, who Mary had sent off to bed hours ago, bursts through the door and collapses on the end of her bed. Even after an exhausting few weeks of the season, she seems full of energy, a dramatic difference to how Mary had felt during her own over two decades ago. But then, Mary thinks to herself, Sybbie’s season has been quite different to hers, they’re not trying desperately to find her a suitable husband, so she’s simply attended those balls and events that interest her, plus of course the requisite presentation at the palace.

Despite this, Mary is about to launch into a well-practiced lecture about the importance of sleep, when her niece interrupts, cutting her short. 

“I know Aunt Mary, I know, I should sleep, otherwise I’ll look like I was ‘up to no good’ tomorrow, and I will, but I just couldn’t settle!”

Mary raises an eyebrow, struggling to keep a smile from creeping onto her face.

“Am I really that predictable? I must come up with new material if so.”

Her niece is quick to reply, clearly not wishing for this, satisfying Mary that she hasn’t quite lost her edge.

“No! No need, I just… knew you wouldn’t approve of me being in here so late.”

Mary nods. “Well, since you are here, do you want to talk about why you couldn’t sleep? Are you excited about tomorrow evening? The presentation was the hard bit, you should enjoy your ball.” 

“I am! It will be fun I think, to see everyone dressed up, feel like a real lady, even if it’s only for the night.” 

Mary smiles indulgently, familiar with this sentiment. While Sybbie has been raised at Downton in exactly the same manner as her own children, she’s claimed since she was quite a young child that she’s not a lady, not really. When young this had usually been in an attempt to be excused from some piece of shocking behaviour, but even now they hear the familiar refrain from time to time. 

“Sybbie, can I ask you a question?” Mary inquires, feeling that this may be a good moment to clear up a matter that has been bothering her. 

She simply nods her assent, so Mary continues “Why did you agree to all this? To doing the season, being presented?” She pauses “I quite expected to hear how it’s an archaic patriarchal marriage market masquerading as a ball that you refuse to take part in.” 

Her niece grins at her “Goodness Auntie, am I rubbing off on you?”

“Perhaps a little, though you forget that I grew up with your mother, she was saying similar things in 1914.”

She watches the girl’s smile grow a little sadder at this comment. “I love to hear that, thank you.” She sighs, and Mary can see her considering how to reply, how honest to be. “I do believe that, but Father sat me down and explained how important it is to you, to show that I’m just as much a part of the family as Caroline or Marigold, despite the fact that he didn’t start out as a gentleman. Besides, he reminded me that even my mother, who married a chauffeur, had a season.” 

Here, she pauses and her eyes take on a wicked glint “He also said that it’d be important to Uncle Henry’s happiness, that we’d be sparing him a lot of grief if I just went along with it.” 

Mary scoffs, amused at her brother-in-law’s words despite herself “that man! He may be rich as Croesus these days, but he never alters.”

“Would you want him to?” her niece inquires. 

“No, I would not” Mary replies, aware that it’s no secret she’s become very fond of Tom over the years. 

Then, she fixes her with a steely glare, and is a tiny bit satisfied when she sees her start to squirm slightly “I believe that is part of the reason why, but it’s not the whole reason is it? Why don’t you tell me the whole of it.”

She watches her niece’s eyes widen slightly, and is amused that she really thought she’d get away with only a half-truth. 

Sybbie sighs. “No, it’s not the whole reason. I was going to tell you after the ball, but I guess now is as good a time as any.”

Mary nods. “Quite.”

“I.. I want to join the army as a nurse, it’s clear that there’s going to be a war any minute, and I want to be where I can do the most good,”.

Hearing this, Mary is transported back to 1914, hearing Sybil demand that her parents allow her to train at the college in York, to become a VAD. Feeling an intense surge of emotion it’s all she can do to school her features and keep her voice steady. 

“I see. But what about medical school? I thought you wanted to be a doctor, to do the course up at Girton?” 

While outwardly she’s calm, inwardly she’s panicking. She has no problem with Sybbie wanting to go to university, to train as a doctor, she’d sent Caroline to school in York after Sybbie after all! However, she and the rest of the family had envisioned her safe in a country hospital for the foreseeable future, which will not necessarily be the case if she takes the quicker training course as a nurse, let alone if she joins the army. 

Sybbie must be able to sense some of this emotion, as she reaches out to take Mary’s hand. “I know, and I do want to be a doctor. I will be one day. But I want to be able to help soon, not in several years' time.”

Mary sighs. “You’re so very like Sybil sometimes you know. Then I suppose your willingness to do the season is connected to this, you hoped I’d be less opposed if I had my way with it?”

Sybbie has the decency to blush before admitting, “It wasn’t quite as calculated as all that, but yes. Papa has said he’ll support me, but I wanted your blessing too, you’ve… you’ve been almost like a second parent, you know that.”

Mary does, raising their children together at Downton had brought her Henry and Tom close, and had also meant that over time she’d developed very maternal feelings for her sister’s child. 

“I hate to think of you in harm's way, I’m glad George is safe at Eton for another year, even if he’s cursing it, but of course. You have my blessing if you feel you need it.”

At this, Sybbie gives her one of the beaming unguarded smiles that remind them all so vividly of her mother “I won’t disappoint you.”

“I know you won’t, and it’ll be quite like old times to have a Nurse Branson in the family again,” she says, keeping the tone light. Thinking again of her late sister, and what she’d have wished for her daughter, she adds “Sybil would be fiercely proud of you, and that’s quite enough for me to support you.” 

At this point, she feels she’s shared quite enough emotion for one night and extends her hand to pull Sybbie up off the bed. “Now, to bed with you! It’ll be a long day tomorrow, you’ll be glad of the sleep I assure you.”

Sybbie smiles softly, and gives her a knowing look before slipping for the room. 

The children all find Mary’s tendency to hide her emotions amusing, a fact that she supposes she should resent, but actually finds endearing. Times have changed so much since she was in Sybbie’s shoes, and when she sees the fierce, unguarded, liberated children in her life she finds it hard to resent it, to wish for the old days. 

Rather forthrightly, at twelve, Caroline has announced that she wants to run Talbot and Branson one day, and not a single person has told her she can’t, that it’s a job best suited for her brother, that she’ll have to focus on making a good marriage instead. Mary is fiercely glad for the life that they’ve given the next generation of Crawley’s, Talbot’s and Branson’s, but it does make her sad from time to time when she thinks of the position she was pushed into at Sybbie’s age. 

Neither Sybbie nor Caroline have been raised to expect an arranged marriage, to know that they must seek one to find financial and social security. They’ve both been raised to know that they’re valued just as much as George, that they may not have titles but that they can do almost anything he can. In fact, Mary thinks wryly to herself, if Talbot and Branson keeps growing at its current rate, both Sybbie and young Caroline will be heiresses in their own right, rivaling George’s fortunes in size if not in age. 

Tom may have spent the first decade of Sybbie’s life worrying that she won’t be happy, that she’ll never quite fit into the realm of the upper classes as the daughter of a former chauffeur, but it’s been abundantly clear over the past few years, and especially the past weeks of the season, that he needn’t have bothered.

Sybbie may not be titled, but she’s wealthy, beautiful, and intelligent, she’s been stunningly successful with London society, and should she want to, Mary feels sure she’d have no trouble finding a good match. Of course, nothing could be further from Sybbie’s thoughts, but this only seems to make her more popular, her honesty and lack of patience for the game making her a welcome change from some of the other debs. 

Mary hasn’t always been sure, but she thinks Sybil would be proud of what Tom, and to a lesser extent Henry and Mary, have raised Sybbie to be. She’s happy and healthy, and content with her place in the world, in a way that neither she nor Sybil were at her age. 

At this point, her mood sours, and she thinks to herself bitterly that now all they have to do is keep her that way, with what’s seeming like the war to end all wars on the way.

As she always does when her mood grows despondent, she wishes Henry were here by her side. He and Tom are off in talks with the military, arranging to give over two of their factories for military production if, as it is seeming increasingly likely, war does break out. No one is under any delusions that this will be a repeat of the last war, of trenches and horses, and both Tom and Henry are determined to do anything they can to ensure that the young men heading off to battle this time are as prepared as possible. 

Mary is proud of her husband, but he’s been away for a week already, and it’s seeming as if he and Tom will miss Sybbie’s ball the following day. Quite apart from that, she knows that no one is so good at teasing her into a good mood, making fun of her facade until it crumbles altogether. 

Mary sighs, makes her peace with the fact that tomorrow she’ll have to run things with only Barrow and Edith’s dubious help, turns off the light and climbs into bed. 

The next thing she’s aware of is a presence on the other side of the bed. For a moment she’s alarmed, and she sits up in bed suddenly, only to see Henry smiling at her sheepishly.

“Darling, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Forgetting her composure, Mary climbs out of bed and flings herself at him, taking comfort in being back in his arms once more. For a moment they simply stay there, enjoying being reunited, but then eventually they break apart and move to sit on the bed. 

“Is Tom back too? Sybbie will be so glad.”

Henry nods “He is. Is she the only one who is glad?” 

Noting his teasing tone, Mary plays along “I think Caroline has missed you both, she’ll be thrilled to see you in the morning.” 

“No one else?” 

Mary pretends to think. “Hmm, I suppose I have missed you, the bed has felt rather empty.” 

Henry smirks at her. “Well, I’m back now, if only to fill the bed.”

Then he yawns, and she can see the exhaustion on his face from the past week.“How was it?” she asks. 

He stretches out his back, stretching so far she sees the muscles in his back strain before he replies. “I’m exhausted and stiff from spending the day on trains, but In the end, it was all fine. We convinced them to accept the factories, they’ll still be making engines, just not for motor cars.”

“Just as you planned then! Tom must be pleased.”

Henry nods. “He is, and despite himself, he’s enormously glad to be back in time for Sybbie’s ball. I’m so sorry we cut it so close”.

She smiles, far too relieved to have him back to even pretend she’s cross. “Nonsense, you had to go and you’re here now, all is well.” 

He seems to sense how she’s been feeling until his return, for he studies her face carefully before asking, ‘my dear, are you alright?” 

Blinking back tears that threaten to betray her, she nods “I am, it’s just, I’m so worried for them, for George and Sybbie. They’re all so happy, and they’re about to be plunged into a war that they’re not prepared for in the slightest.”

He sighs, seeming to guess at what’s brought this on “Sybbie told you then? Tom thought she might.” 

“She did, and of course I’ll support her, it’s what Sybil would want, but it frightens me.”

He pulls her close once more “I know, I know. It frightens me too, things are going to get much worse before they get better. But the children are strong, they’ll be alright.” 

“Perhaps you’re right.”

He looks down at her, seeming amused “I know I’m right. And before anything else, we get to celebrate Sybbie’s coming of age, surrounded by the people we love.”

Smiling up at him, Mary knows he’s right. It’s clear they’ll have plenty of worrying times ahead, and soon she’s sure they won’t be able to distract themselves by something so innocent as a debutante ball, but for now she’s content just to revel in her husband’s presence and the family members that fill the London house. For now, at least, they’re all together, and they should make the most of that. 


End file.
